


A Lesson in Patience

by fenfyre (Jace)



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Begging, Cuddling, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, M/M, Pining, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:48:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23649481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jace/pseuds/fenfyre
Summary: It was an intimate little ritual they came to enjoy in the dead of night. So after a while spent apart they had a lot to make up for.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 41
Kudos: 445
Collections: Good Relationship Etiquette (familial included) - or Good BDSM Etiquette - or Good Relationship and BDSM Etiquette





	A Lesson in Patience

The first time it happened in the early hours of morning when the fire in the middle of their small camp had died down. When the night was darkest and not even the nearly full moon had any hopes of piercing the thick canopy above, leaving their surroundings hidden behind flitting shadows and a darkness that swallowed anything but the soft light of the dancing red embers in the firepit.

Jaskier had not yet gotten used to sleeping outdoors in the middle of woods infested by monsters and worse. He was not able to find into sleep, each quiet rustling noise, every beating of wings or high pitched whine somewhere in the underbrush making him jolt upright on his bedroll.

He tossed and turned for hours, until even the faint glimmering of embers had died down and left him defenceless in complete darkness, when he became aware of more movement. This time it was closer though and it only took him a second of panicked stillness before he realized that this time the source was Geralt.

The witcher shifted where he was lying on the hard forest ground, nothing but his thin bedroll to protect him from the cold creeping up into his body, and rumbled a low noise of irritation. Then he scooted and shifted, pulling his bedroll along until he came to rest right next to where Jaskier was spread out, motionless, waiting for what would happen next.

As Geralt settled behind him the rustling noises of fabric and quiet grunts of effort died down. For a moment Jaskier thought that was everything, that maybe the witcher had only tried to find a more comfortable spot to rest.

But then a strong, warm arm was thrown over his waist, a broad hand coming to press up against his chest and then Geralt pulled Jaskier back against himself. Narrow shoulders settled back against a broad chest and for a moment Jaskier forgot what it was like to breathe.

The shape of the witcher was large and sturdy behind him, a solid wall shielding him from whatever lurked behind them in the darkness. He could feel the subtle rise and fall in time with the faint breath ghosting across the hair at the top of his head. Below that he was even aware of the inhumanly slow thump of the witcher's heart beating a steady rhythm against his shoulder blades.

"Sleep", Geralt rumbled after a few more moments, voice thick and slow with sleep and Jaskier finally remembered to take a breath.

The first one was shallow and careful as if he were trying not to move the hand resting against his own chest. But with time he slowly began to relax into the unfamiliar embrace, breaths evening out until he had unconsciously fallen into the rhythm of the witcher, breathing long and deep. Slowly, without Jaskier even noticing, his body bega unwinding further and he slipped into thoughtless sleep for the first time that night.

When he awoke the early morning sunlight was filtering through the canopy and Geralt was gone. Or at least he thought so before he saw the witcher a few paces to the left, feeding handfuls of oats to the quietly munching Roach.

They did not talk about what had happened that night, no matter how infuriatingly the words were itching at the back of Jaskier’s throat.

~

For a few days, maybe a week, nothing happened. They left the infested woods, slept at an actual inn for a change, took a while to hunt down a lead for the next mission. All the while Jaskier slept without big disturbances. Not well, not without the occasional nightmare or troubles falling back asleep, but he managed. Until they found their way into a swamp.

~

It was probably just the hooting of a regular owl but Jaskier still trembled each time it resounded through the humid air. Paired with the shuffling and cracking of twigs in the depths of the darkness it left him trembling. His eyes clinging to the last dying flames licking at charred, damp wood that had released a terrible, stinking smoke once they lit it.

This time it did not take Geralt until the early morning hours where the night was darkest and Jaskier had lived through hours of paranoid terror. This time he shook his bedroll, placing it much closer to Jaskier's before they even went to sleep and when after a while of silence the bard was still shivering under his blanket, Geralt scooted closer.

His arm was heavy draped across Jaskier's waist, a comfortable weight grounding him, drawing his attention back to where he was spread out on the ground next to the fire, instead of wandering into the distant parts of the swamp and what might be hiding there in the shadows. It was a comfortable feeling, one that Jaskier welcomed willingly. As he did with the decisive way Geralt pulled him back against that broad chest again.

It was warm, even through the layer of Geralt's rough shirt and Jaskier's smoother, softer one. Before he could stop himself his attention was drawn to all the other warm places they were suddenly touching. That large palm casually splayed against his stomach, stubbled chin hooked over the top of his head, protectively tucking him away. Thick thighs pressed against the backs of his own and, Jaskier flushed minutely at that realization, the places where his own ass pushed back against the witcher's crotch in a gentle curve.

If he was not mistaken this had been different the last time Geralt had pulled him close. But Jaskier was not one to complain, not when he felt strangely good about being wrapped up in the witcher's arms, the dying light of their fire warming his exposed face while Geralt's firm, strong body warmed his back.

Once again his breathing grew slow and deep, chest rising and falling with the same rhythm Geralt's did. He tried to stay awake longer than he did last time, tried to savour the experience, the feeling of safety and protection settling somewhere behind his ribs. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt even close to this well taken care of.

But with the heavy relaxation of each of his limbs and the long, deep breaths came exhaustion and, finally, sleep claimed Jaskier. He dreamed of owls that night, small grey ones that allowed him to pet them, and when he awoke again come morning he was well rested but alone.

~

After that night in the swamp it became a habit. Whenever they built camp somewhere out in the wilds, far from any inns or villages, Geralt would silently spread out his bedroll behind Jaskier's and tuck the bard against his body before they fell asleep. Jaskier could not remember ever having slept more soundly than during those nights, pressed safe and warm against the witcher.

They still did not speak about it, not even when their bodies started yearning for another when they spent time apart.

Jaskier began to lose sleep on more comfortable nights they did not spend together. Waking up breathing hard and having trouble finding back into sleep even in the more comfortable inns, knowing he was alone in the tiny room he could afford. When they were especially broke, having been swindled out of payment or been unsuccessful at their respective trades for a while, they shared a room, sometimes even a bed. And while they fell asleep on opposite sides of the mattress Jaskier would stir awake at some point at night, aware of large, warm arms wrapping around his body and deep, slow breath tickling his hair.

Those nights always left him satisfied enough to purr when he crawled out from underneath the blankets the next day. No matter that Geralt had already went downstairs to get breakfast for them. The tension was still drained from his body, his mind at ease as he slipped into his clothes.

This new habit of theirs went far enough that Jaskier started to seek out the witcher even on the rare occasion they could afford their own rooms. He would toss and turn for hours until finally leaving the bed and sneaking across the hallway to Geralt's room. There he would be welcomed silently but with a warmth and calm that soothed his nervous soul, the witcher holding up the blankets for him to slip underneath. Jaskier would feel like he could relax for the very first time that night, his body already finding into sleep when Geralt was still shifting behind him to get comfortable.

It was hardest when their paths parted for weeks or months at a time, especially after they had spent dozens of nights getting addicted to the other's warm body. Jaskier would be called to a court or asked to stay somewhere for a party. Maybe Geralt found a mission he couldn't risk taking the bard on or mumbled something mysterious about needing to be alone for the weeks to come.

Jaskier had never slept as horribly in his life. Not even the finest linen of a court's guest bedroom that he charmed his way into were as comfortable as a hard forest ground, a damp bedroll and a warm, steadily breathing body in his back. He would lose sleep for endless nights, barely able to catch even a few hours a night while he longed for those heavy arms, that steady breath.

After a few weeks of quiet, or sometimes not so quiet, suffering, Jaskier decided that all of this was pathetic and that he needed to get over the ridiculous habit of only being able to sleep when the witcher was cuddling him.

But not even distraction helped. No matter if he picked a pretty whore, some merchant's wife whose husband was travelling the land while he bedded her, or a butcher's son with hands large enough they could wrap around his waist almost entirely. Nobody managed to take his mind off of Geralt's strong arms winding around his body for more than a few hours of distracting pleasure.

So when even his trusted old method of stopping all manner of unproductive thought ceased to function properly Jaskier slowly found himself growing insane. Insane with lack of sleep and yearning that could not be sated or quelled no matter how long and often he searched for relief.

And then he met Geralt again, just outside a lovely little village with a pretty inn keeper he had been making advances to. But his sweet smile was all but forgotten the moment he laid eyes on that familiar horse and its rider high up in the saddle.

~

The first night was awkward, a tension between them that was not delicious but felt cold and oddly distant. Like the months they spent apart had driven a wedge between them where they had always been able to pick up right where they left off after they had been separated and found back to together.

Geralt was cold and grumpy as he always was but this time it was harder for Jaskier to ignore or joke about when the only thing he could think of was if the witcher would let him back into his bed. Maybe he had grown comfortable by himself, not having to share his space with the nosy bard. Maybe he was glad they had gotten a chance to break the habit and that he could enjoy his nights the way he preferred them: alone with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company.

Jaskier spun through all these possibilities while they were eating dry chicken they washed down with bitter ale. They talked about how they had spent the months they had not seen each other. Or rather Jaskier talked and asked questions while Geralt grunted sometimes, either in agreement or in something else.

When it was time to retire the witcher rented a room with the cute tavern owner and they headed upstairs, saying goodnight at the door to Jaskier's room before the witcher headed further down the corridor. He watched Geralt leave, unsure what to do for a long moment. Then the witcher turned a corner where there were more rooms to the front of the building and Jaskier finally slipped through his door.

~

Jaskier couldn't sleep. That by itself was not a surprise, he hadn't slept right in months. But the knowledge that just a few rooms over, a few paces down the corridor, there was Geralt resting in his own room, that knowledge made it even harder for his body to find into the restful embrace of sleep.

Before Jaskier knew it, let alone allowed it, his mind was wandering. Inside his own mind he saw himself wandering down that corridor with bare feet, clad in nothing but the light linen trousers and the simple shirt he wore. He saw himself opening the door to the witcher's room, in his fantasy he knew exactly which one it was, and slide into the darkness awaiting him behind it.

The picture was so intense and lively he could hear the witcher's even breaths, deep and calming, just like Jaskier knew them to be. He heard the creaking of the old floor boards as he approached the bed, heard the rustling of bed sheets as Geralt stirred from sleep and grunted a tired noise. He saw the covers rise as the witcher's lifted them for him, the same silent invitation he had wordlessly spoken dozens of times.

But Jaskier didn't move, didn't glide out of his bed and sneak down the corridor to find Geralt's room. He wasn't sure he'd be welcome there anymore, wasn't sure if he would be able to live with the knowledge, the image of the covers staying flat and unmoved for him. So he stayed where he was, in his own room, in his own bed, trying first to find solace in the thoughts his yearning mind conjured up for him, then trying to free himself from their hypnotic pull he couldn't follow.

But as it turned out it was not him who had decided to move this night.

It was long after midnight when Jaskier heard a creaking outside his room, the weathered floor boards of the inn betraying whoever walked down the corridor and stopped right in front of his door. The unfamiliar, alerting noises made his heart leap in his chest, beating a harsh, nervous rhythm against his ribs. Jaskier remained right where he was, though. Too unsure of what was happening to act, to get up and prepare himself for an invasion.

For a long time, long enough Jaskier started to believe the noises had been a product of his overactive imagination, nothing happened.

After a while though his door did open. Slowly, carefully, leaving Jaskier enough time to close his eyes and pretend he was fast asleep. Whatever the intruder wanted he would be better able to defend himself if the other person thought he was unconscious and helpless.

But with the careful closing of the door behind the intruder and the first few steps towards the bed Jaskier's body was relaxing, his heartbeat slowing down before he even consciously understood what was happening. His body was familiar with the presence of whoever had just joined him, already giving up the lingering tension and fear. He recognized the weight of the measured steps, the careful hands tugging on the blankets before his mind could put a name to them.

Then the other man slid into bed with him and Jaskier's body instinctively curled towards him, fingers splaying against warm skin as Geralt's arms wrapped around him, pulling him close. They needed a moment to settle but once they did their bodies slotted together perfectly, like they had never been apart.

Sure, it was different like this. Jaskier wasn't tucked against the witcher's chest with his back to Geralt's body. Instead his head came to rest on that broad chest, slowly rising and falling with each calming breath, each thrum of his heart beating against Jaskier's cheek. His fingers found the soft tickle of hair, drawing artful patterns before beginning to pluck against them like he would the strings of his lute.

Geralt's only reaction was a low rumble deep within his chest that Jaskier felt vibrate against his cheek. He smirked and curled against the witcher's body even more closely, their legs tangling as Geralt's arm wrapped around his back shifted to hold him even more securely.

They remained like that for a while, Jaskier's body growing heavy with satisfaction and nearing sleep, Geralt breathing deeply, his heart thudding a gentle, unhurried rhythm that lulled the bard into a light, comfortable doze. He was rustled from the sweet pull of sleep when the witcher moved again, slowly reaching up with one hand to curl calloused fingers around Jaskier's palm that lay gently against his chest.

Rough, warm fingers squeezed his own and the gesture was so soft and surprisingly romantic Jaskier let out a low purr of satisfaction, rubbing his cheek against Geralt's chest.

"Oh this is nice...", he slurred, brain already slow and comfortable, just absent enough he forgot about their unspoken rule of silence during these nights. That neither of them talked while they held each other, nor did either of them ever talk about what happened the next day.

But Jaskier was more relaxed and comfortable than he had been the entire last few months. The warm safety he felt, curled up against Geralt's side, made him feel like he could truly let go and be himself. And being himself usually involved saying anything that popped into his mind. No matter how slow and sluggish.

"You feel so ... nice ... oh heavens, how I missed this..." He ended in a hot sigh, brushing the tip of his nose against soft chest hair as he breathed in deeply. And of course he smelled horse and leather and sweat. Geralt had obviously not taken a bath when getting ready for the night this time. But underneath the faintest copper tang of blood and the traces of steel and campfire smoke Jaskier could detect the rich scent of moss and damp earth and pine needles. Geralt smelled of travel and freedom and the forests where they had spent long, dark nights together.

He savoured the scent of deep woods and darkness and secrets pressed into each other's skin and he sighed again. A deep, dreamy noise.

"Oh, how I missed you", he sighed again, voice barely above a whisper. Had Jaskier been truly conscious he would have known Geralt's sensitive ears would pick up on his words either way. But right now these things did not concern him. He had melted too far into this quiet, intimate moment between them, allowing his lips to form the words without caring about the consequences of breaking their silent agreement.

"You idiot ... just ran off and ... let me deal with my aching heart all by myself. Could barely catch a night of sleep ... could barely..."

Jaskier trailed off, voice growing breathier and lighter until the words stopped and he closed his eyes more firmly. He shouldn't think of the lonely nights, of all the sleep that had not found him. Not while his body was pressed against Geralt's. Not while calloused fingers squeezed his own tightly and he could hear the subtle quickening of a strong heartbeat against his cheek, against his ear.

Then Geralt began to move. For a short, unbearable second Jaskier thought the witcher would get up and leave him here in the darkness. It left his limbs paralysed with fear as Geralt moved even more, grabbing hold of his body and turning him, turning both of them.

Until they had reached the familiar position of Jaskier being tucked against the witcher's body, back to chest, head resting on a thick bicep and legs tangling with Geralt's. It was so close and intimate and familiar Jaskier fell into the position, into the feeling, and a deep sigh of relief escaped him as he wiggled to get more comfortable.

But something was different this time.

Instead of gently laying his other arm across Jaskier's waist or splaying calloused fingers against his chest Geralt still held Jaskier's hand wrapped in his own. Slowly he began to inch both their fingers lower, all the way down the bard's chest and stomach until they reached the hem of his trousers. They had slipped low on his hips with their movement.

The pad of a curious finger dragged along Jaskier's prominent hip bones, the inviting V of his muscles, the trail of dark hair that wasn't currently as well trimmed as the bard liked it to be when getting close to anyone he wanted to seduce. But he never carried the intent to seduce Geralt and found himself completely unprepared for the careful but obvious touches.

Unprepared but not unwillig.

The next chance he got his fingers reached for the string that held his trousers up, tucking it loose from the hastily tried bow. Like this there was enough space for Geralt to slide his hand even lower, if he caught the hint. But for a good, long time nothing else happened.

The witcher teased him, scratching curious fingers through the wiry hair, drawing a fingertip right along the hem of his trousers. The touch was light enough to make it tickle, to make Jaskier twitch and let out a low noise of protest. The caress didn't stop though. He let go of Jaskier's hand so he could splay his own palm against the bard's abdomen, two fingertips just barely dipping below the hem of the trousers. The touch made Jaskier shiver and bite his lips against the embarrassing noises wanting to spill.

In the end though he couldn't hold himself back anymore, his sluggish mind giving way for his greedy body.

The next time Geralt gently splayed his hand across Jaskier's abdomen the bard grabbed his wrist and slowly but surely inched it downwards, leading it right into his tented trousers.

"Come on", he breathed, body taut and ready for what he had been waiting for since Geralt had pulled his body close that very first time. "Touch me." After a moment Jaskier decided to add a breathy, almost desperate "Please..." that made calloused fingers tremble against his heated skin.

A low, vibrating growl escaped Geralt and he shifted, sliding lower behind the bard until he could tuck his face against Jaskier's neck.

It was a strangely intimate movement, leaving the witcher behind him just a bit more vulnerable than before. Like he would not have been able to carry out a move like this, sliding his warm hand into Jaskier's pants, if he had not been allowed to hide from the bard. Maybe that was the reason Geralt preferred to pull him close from behind, hold him tightly against his body and keep him from twisting away. So that Jaskier could not turn to look into his face. Maybe if he tried, Jaskier would have seen more in the curve of pale lips and the furrow of silver brows than either of them was ready for.

But like this, hidden under scratchy blankets in the darkness of the night, Geralt could slowly slide his fingers lower. Until the pads brushed against the base of Jaskier's hard cock and he kept moving, slowly encircling the blood hot hardness with his fingers. The touch was enough to leave Jaskier gasping, his head spinning with relief after suffering in silence. Yearning and dreaming and biting his lips against the words that wanted to spill out come morning.

Now he didn't bite them anymore, didn't hold himself back when curses rose up in his chest and spilled over his lips at the tight squeeze of calloused fingers.

"Oh ... oh h-holy fucking hell...", he gasped and the grunt muffled against his neck didn't sound too pleased but Jaskier didn't mind. The only thing he could pay any attention to was the warm press of Geralt's body against his own, the tight squeeze of calloused fingers around his cock. The deep breaths that had quickened the moment the witcher had grabbed hold of him. Jaskier smirked, then shivered when Geralt began to slowly move his hand up his length, squeezing tight and twisting his wrist once he reached the tip.

"Heavens, I didn't think ... oh well, I suppose I did think ... I mean thought ... thought about this. But I never ... oh, Geralt..."

A low growl was muffled against his neck as sharp teeth nipped at his skin, digging deep enough into his flesh to leave bruises come morning. For some reason Jaskier was very fond of the thought and he wiggled in excitement, pushing back against the witcher's body, deeper into the embrace that caught him so perfectly.

Geralt's hand kept moving, a steady rhythm of up and down along Jaskier's cock and while the tight squeeze and the exciting friction felt nice he couldn't help but want more as he melted back against the hard body. Especially when he felt the tempting shape of Geralt's hardness press against his backside.

It was not the first time Jaskier felt the witcher's excitement pressed up against his body. He had sluggish memories of nights where he had awoken to this very same feeling, the feeling of Geralt's cock rubbing up against him as the witcher slept. Of course at that time he hadn't done anything about it, familiar with the way a man's body behaved during the dark, restful hours of the night.

But now, that the witcher was fondling him Jaskier was keen on trying his luck. The next time Geralt's hand slid down his length he gathered enough breath and focus to speak more than just nonsense.

"Oh gods", he whispered and his breath was hot and humid in the dark, "I want you. I want you ... inside me..."

For a second or two the steady movement of Geralt's hand up and down his length faltered, losing the steady rhythm and coming to a halt. Then the witcher found back into the motion, fingers closing around Jaskier's cock just a bit tighter. The bard let out a low whine, hips pushing forward into the rough grasp, then languidly rolling back against hat promising hardness.

When Geralt didn't react but for a low, stifled groan Jaskier smirked to himself and gathered some more courage. He reached up to grasp the other hand, the one attached to the arm his head was resting on, the one that was not currently stroking him, and carefully tugged it toward his face. Jaskier licked his lips once he could guess the shapes of thick fingers in the darkness, then stuck out his tongue and dragged it along a calloused thumb.

Geralt's finger tasted of chicken grease and spices and Jaskier didn't mind licking off the last remnants of the witcher's dinner before closing his lips around the thumb and sucking even harder. Until all he tasted was clean, warm skin. This time the reaction was more imminent and Jaskier revelled in the low rumble that sounded almost needy to his ears. Almost like Geralt had missed him, yearned for him as pathetically as Jaskier had. If he could even yearn for anything before he had to drown the feeling in the rush of adrenaline only fighting for one's life could provide.

Jaskier did not let up. He bobbed his head, taking more of the thick thumb between his lips until the corner of his mouth rested against the soft, fleshy part of where the base of Geralt's thumb met the side of his pointer finger. He flicked his tongue, sucked hard on the digit that remained still and complacent in his mouth. Then he pulled off with an obscene smack and moved on to the next finger, sucking at the tip before bobbing down again and letting his tongue flick around, gathering the faint traces of grease and spices.

All the while Geralt's hand kept moving on him, kept squeezing and gliding and pulling, even though his rhythm wasn't quite as even as it had been before. When Jaskier pulled off the second finger, slow and with purpose, the strong body behind him trembled and those hips rolled forward, pressing that telling hardness into his backside before moving away again. Of course Jaskier didn't allow the separation for long and soon scooted backwards until he could feel the witcher again.

"Please", he breathed again because it had worked so well the last time, made Geralt jump and shiver again even now. "I want you so badly, have wanted you for so long. Please ... let me feel you."

In the darkness of the night with Geralt firmly tucked behind him, unable to see his expression even with his enhanced sight, Jaskier could say the words without swallowing his tongue in embarrassment. In any other situation he would have stalled and spluttered nonsense but right here, in this very moment, he could outright ask for what he wanted. And he wanted Geralt to fuck him.

The reaction was immediate and inherently pleasing with the way the witcher rolled his hips forward, pressing them against the swell of Jaskier's ass and slowly, deliberately rubbing up against it for a few thrusts. And while it wasn't an answer per se, wasn't any actual vocal agreement or explicit consent, Jaskier liked to think he understood which way Geralt was leaning. Especially that it wasn't towards _No_.

Now Jaskier hadn't exactly planned for anything like this to happen tonight, let alone with the witcher he had last seen months ago. But while travelling he liked to be prepared. One could never know which interesting people one would meet on the road, which handsome young men or playful women with fascinating inclinations. So he was keenly aware of where he had to go searching for what they'd need next and, sadly, it wasn't right next to them in the bed. He took a deep, steadying breath before starting to free himself from the witcher's grasp.

He would have expected it to be harder, would have expected Geralt to pull him closer and refuse to let him leave, grunt his dismay at Jaskier audacity. But instead it was almost easy to shrug off those thick arms, each of them strong enough to snap him in half without much of an effort. But instead of making him struggle Geralt opened his arms to let him leave. Jaskier would have been disappointed had it not been for the quiet, almost lost "Jaskier...?" he heard between the rustling of sheets around him.

Being able to leave Geralt's arms this easily almost made it seem like the witcher didn't care. But that simple breath of his name told a very different story. One that made Jaskier's poor, abandoned cock twitch between his thighs as he pushed himself upright and wiggled out of his trousers, kicking them off to land somewhere next to the bed.

Geralt sounded ... wounded. Unsure. Afraid he'd done something to drive the bard away. It was endearing, almost made Jaskier roll back into his arms immediately. But there was something he needed to do first. Though that did not mean he couldn't soothe his witcher while he did.

"Ohh, don't you pout now", he grinned, fingers reaching out to blindly feel for the bedside table. "I'll be back before you know it. I guess patience isn't your strong suit but ... trust me on this one."

While he spoke his fingers found the dull wood of the table and on it the small booklet of matches. He quickly lit one and lowering it toward the candle that was still resting on the bedside table where Jaskier had blown it out before going to bed. As the charred wick caught fire Jaskier was momentarily tempted to look back over his shoulder, to look at the witcher in his bed, under his sheets, to make sure he was actually still there.

But he had a feeling he wouldn't be able to finish what he had started and so he left the edge of the bed without looking back, keenly aware of a sharp pair of eyes resting on his backside. Geralt’s burning gaze felt even more intense as Jaskier took a moment to cock his hip. Then reached up to grab the simple linen shirt he was still wearing by the neck and slowly pull it up and over his head, revealing more and more skin for the witcher to enjoy. The cooler air against is already heated, sweating body was a blessing and Jaskier rolled his shoulders and breathed a pleased sigh before carelessly dropping the shirt on the ground and pressing on.

Smirking to himself Jaskier bent over a little more than necessary to reach the backpack resting on a chair by the window.

In one of the side pockets he found what he was looking for: A small metal tin with a slick kind of salve he had purchased at an apothecary a few months ago.

Barely having fished the tin out of his bag Jaskier was about to turn and slide back into bed, back under the covers to press his body against Geralt's again. But then he hesitated, just like he had when he was about to look back over his shoulder. Maybe there was something else he could try first, something to make real good use of the heated gaze he could feel on his body like a physical touch. On the round, supple shapes of his buttocks, the dip of his lower back, the lean, pale flesh at the backs of his thighs.

There were more ways to tempt a lover than with touch and even though Jaskier was fairly sure he had done enough tempting by now, that Geralt had to be decided on whether he wanted to fuck the bard or not, sometimes one had to tempt just for temptation's sake.

So Jaskier unscrewed the little tin cap where he stood, placed the container on the edge of the chair before leaning down, bending over even further, and splayed his hand against the stiff wood of the seat. When Jaskier shifted, sliding his bare feet apart and allowing his back to arch into a familiar position he became aware of the way his heart was pounding against his ribs. Nerves and arousal and a completely irrational fear shooting into his veins before he could reign them in, making his throat close up and his mouth run dry.

He was keenly aware Geralt could see everything like this, from the pert swell of his ass to where his full, round balls and swollen cock were hanging between his smooth thighs. The knowledge, the feeling of those eyes on the most intimate parts of his body, made an embarrassed heart rise up into Jaskier's cheeks. For some reason this was even more intense, even more heady, than feeling rough fingers curl around his cock. Showing himself to the witcher like this, vulnerable and unable to hide anything, made his head spin.

Jaskier was about to show him more, at least that was what he had planned when bending over to reveal his body like this. But instead he found himself frozen with his fingers shaking and his heart thudding against his ribcage as if it were trying to bruise itself.

And as always when Jaskier found himself head over heels in a situation of his own making that he was as far from being able to handle as he was from slaying a striga with his bare hands he did what he always did best, no matter the situation: He talked.

"Now ... I did say I'd be back before you know it", he began. It was hard to speak when his tongue was this uncooperative and he still felt like a large bite of an apple was lodged firmly halfway down his throat. But he was still rather confident in how the words came out.

Barely strained and more playful than painful. He was sure Geralt would overlook the underlying traces of anxiety, as distracted as he must be by the view he was getting.

"But I figured ... why not give you a nice show while I'm already up?"

Slowly Jaskier reached back with the hand that was not currently braced against the chair, back and back, until he could grab a supple cheek and slowly, teasingly pull it aside. Then he let go again and allowed it to jiggle back into place.

The grunt from the bed was low and muffled but he still heard it, still bit his lip at the subtle sign of enjoyment. Something about what he was doing was working and the knowledge alone was enough to make his throat feel just a little less tight.

"There's only one rule", he continued, still way more confident than he was actually feeling, "No leaving the bed. You just lie back and enjoy while I ... get everything ready for you..." The last words were barely above a breath but he knew the witcher's ears would pick them up anyway, would know just what to read into the heat behind them.

Quiet rustling noises of sheets, a light creak of the bed frame. Jaskier was very tempted to look over his shoulder and find out just how Geralt had moved to cause these noises. If he had gotten himself into a position to better watch what was about to happen or maybe if he had shifted to more easily touch himself to the show he was about to get.

But just like before Jaskier pulled himself together, sucked his lower lip between his teeth and resisted the urge to look back. Because no matter what he found on that bed, even if it was a witcher absolutely enamoured with and enraptured by him, even if he saw all the validation he needed to keep going, Jaskier was not sure he would be able to continue if he locked eyes with Geralt at this moment.

This was a big step above cuddling in a dark forest with his face turned away from the other man. This was real and intimate and vulnerable. And as much as Jaskier enjoyed putting on shows for his lovers, enjoyed teasing and playing and showing off, this just now still made him more nervous than he had been during the entire last year. At least in non life threatening situations. Still, spreading his legs for Geralt to see made him throb with arousal. He tried to hold onto that feeling if nothing else as he slowly reached down and dipped three fingers into the container, coating them thoroughly in the slick substance that smelled faintly of sage and honey.

They were still shaking slightly. A sure sign that Jaskier should keep talking for a while longer, until he had completely caught himself and found back into the bold confidence that lead him to bend over and present himself like this in the first place.

"That's right", he hummed, as much to himself as to Geralt, "you stay just like that and let me prepare myself for you. Something tells me I'll need quite a bit of preparation before I can climb back into bed with you..."

The grin in his voice made it onto his face as well, loosening the tight worry lines across his forehead. He slowly reached back again, returning his hand to its previous position, only that this time he was ready to do more than just squeeze himself and show off his most intimate parts. This time he meant to actually start the show.

Of course it was true, that he would need thorough preparation before he could ever dream of taking the witcher. But that was fine, it only gave him more time to calm his jittery nerves. By talking himself through the process in what he hoped was an endearing and arousing narration.

“But don’t you worry. I’ll see to it you won’t get bored in the meantime...”

With a minutely trembling hand he spread his own cheeks apart again, showing off his clenched hole before slowly, gently, touching the tip of his slick middle finger against it. The lubricant was cold and he twitched but didn't pull his hand back.

He was used to this feeling, even though he preferred to warm up the slick lotion a bit before putting it to work any other day. But today it wasn't solely about his comfort, it was about putting on a good show. Also about getting himself out of his head. Right, the narration, he remembered. One way to make this tension more bearable and release a bit of the nerves bundled up behind his teeth.

"Oh yes, that ... that feels ... nice", he murmured, taking the time to draw slow circles around his hole. He was well aware Geralt was probably able to see each little detail, even in the low candle light. Able to see the slow spread of slick around Jaskier's hole. Maybe even able to hear the faint wet noises as Jaskier rubbed it in.

The thought of being watched this closely made a new wave of heat rise up through his body, arousal and embarrassment making his face glow and his abdomen pull tight. But he didn't stop. Instead he shifted his legs even further apart, giving himself better access and granting Geralt an even better view.

"I bet it's been a while since anyone made you sit back and wait, hm?", Jaskier teased as he continued the motions of his fingers. Slowly swirling the tips around his hole and spreading the slick lubricant around, massaging the muscles from the outside and preparing them to open up for him soon. He liked to take his time for this, liked to prepare his body for more while drawing out the tension between himself and whatever partner he decided to take for the night.

Now, of course he couldn't be sure about the witcher's habits between the sheets. But he liked to imagine, the few, secret times he chose to indulge in these kinds of fantasies, that Geralt preferred to get to the main event in a more ... time efficient manner. After all he was quick, decisive and efficient in all other things, why should the bedroom be an exception?

"Let me guess", he continued, a playful smile to his voice even as the feverish heat in his cheeks burned brighter the longer he presented himself. "Had I stayed with you in that bed you would have already ravaged me."

His mind was eager to supply him with images for that particular fantasy. How Geralt would have pulled him close and held him tight, stroking his cock quick and perfect. How that beautiful erection he had only felt pressing against his backside would be freed from the confines of the witcher's trousers and pushed between Jaskier's thighs. How Geralt would rumble for Jaskier to push his legs together as he fucked between them...

There was another rustling of sheets but no answer. Still it was enough to pull Jaskier out of his wandering thoughts and back into the present moment. He bit down on his lower lip and decided it was time to move on, began to slowly push the very tip of his finger inside, feeling it slide easily after all the gentle massaging and careful work to prepare the muscles.

"But not with me", he breathed, voice hot with need as he wiggled that one finger and pushed deeper, enjoying the slight but comfortable stretch. "Because I am going to be the one who teaches you patience, Geralt of Rivia..."

A low humming noise from the bed behind him made Jaskier's skin prickle with a welcome warmth. He appreciated these little signs his show was still interesting to the witcher more than he could ever admit. It soothed his frayed nerves even more so than the sound of his own voice carrying on.

"Is that so?", Geralt rumbled and the sound of his voice was as much a surprise as a shock to his system, making Jaskier's cock jump and throb pathetically between his spread thighs. "Well then, go on. I'm enjoying this lesson so far..."

Jaskier had no idea how much he had been craving this kind of validation until the words sank in and made him feel hot and perfect all over. He pushed his finger deeper, allowing a pretty moan to spill over his lips as he wiggled and twisted it. By now the view he gave must have been incredibly lewd but Jaskier had reached a point where he didn't care about that anymore. 

The nerves were almost gone, the insistent jitter in his heart that had accompanied him until just now melting away and leaving nothing but the need to put on a good show, to make this as enjoyable as he could for the both of them. With just a few words Geralt had unknowingly soothed Jaskier's embarrassment and shown him that he was on the right way, that the witcher was indeed sitting back and savouring the moment with him.

He had taken the chance and been rewarded and with that his put-upon bravado made way for Jaskier's real confidence to shine. And he had a lot of that.

After a few more delicious moments of crooking his own finger inside himself Jaskier began to pull out, really drawing the movement out until all but the very tip remained inside, barely up to the first knuckle. Then he reversed the motion and let the finger sink deep again, all the way up to the third knuckle, revelling in the quiet, wet noises the motion caused. The feeling was hot, dirty but perfect, and Jaskier let out another low noise of pleasure, head dipping forward as he continued the motions.

"Wish this was you, big guy?", he teased, licking his lips. "Wish you could ... hah ... spread me open instead? Use those big hands to ... to grab me and f-finger me and..."

After having to take another slowly steadying breath Jaskier decided to trail off and abandon that particular venue of teasing. It was far too successful on himself, his mind's eye supplying him with all kinds of delectable pictures. Geralt's broad hands wrapping around his hips and pulling him close. Calloused fingers spreading lubricant around his opening before sinking inside and spreading him open. Would Geralt give him time and let him get accustomed to the feeling? Or would he stuff Jaskier with his fingers, leaving him no choice but to take it? Both sounded way too appealing for very different reasons.

Maybe, if they both liked the encounter of the night, they would be able to do this again at some point. Maybe they would be able to explore the different flavours of intimacy together. Do it both fast and rough, then gentle and slow. Jaskier wondered if Geralt would like that, if he would be open to some exploration. He hoped so.

For the moment though Jaskier bit down on his tongue and slowly removed his one finger, concerned he might otherwise lose the remaining control he had over himself. It would be way too embarrassing to lose patience now and jump back into bed, begging the witcher to continue where they left off. Especially after boasting about giving a show and wanting to teach the witcher patience.

So he took a moment to gather the scattered pieces of his lust addled mind, all the while rubbing two fingers against his already loosened and welcoming entrance. He could do this, could finish this show without getting himself too worked up. Or at least he hoped so.

As if to prove it to himself Jaskier slowly began to sink both fingers into himself as soon as he could think straight again, stretching his muscles and preparing them for more. He still allowed himself to breathe a pleased little moan, curling his fingers so he could graze his knuckles against that sweet spot once he had pushed deep enough.

It was barely more than a gentle brush and yet it made him shudder, knowing his body well enough to draw these kinds of reactions from it.

A low, feral rumble from the bed told him Geralt had noticed his pleasure as well. And not only that: Geralt enjoyed his pleasure, enjoyed seeing him shiver and hearing his breathless moans. Another kind of validation that went right to Jaskier's head and then, much lower, shooting through his abdomen and making his heavy cock twitch and jump.

The knowledge that Geralt could see all of that, could see the arousal shudder through his body and make his cock throb, everything so readily on display, only made the feeling all the more intense. His own need now part of the show he had so confidently started. For a moment Jaskier wondered if Geralt would enjoy seeing him beg, if he could find a kind of sadistic glee in pushing the bard down and drawing all kinds of pretty noises out of him. If he'd have Jaskier writhing on the bed once he had the chance.

But the thoughts were way too distracting so he pushed them aside for the moment, no matter how tempting. That, too, was something for another day. That was if more should follow.

Now Jaskier pushed two fingers as deep as he could, twisting and crooking them to open himself further, all under the watchful gaze of the witcher that made him burn even hotter than his own touch. And as Jaskier continued the movements of his fingers, twisting and spreading them inside himself, grazing his own sweet spot again and again, he became aware of his own wetness.

His cock was all but drooling, thick fluid gathering at the tip where it slowly started dripping. In any other position it might have hit his abdomen or his thighs or seeped into his undergarments to leave a telling stain. But like this it drew long, shimmering strands that shuddered under his own movements and the insistent throbbing of his cock, breaking off repeatedly to leave dark splashes on the dusty wooden floors.

It was a hypnotic sight, one he was sure Geralt had taken note of already, displaying his need so prominently. Part of him wanted to reach between his legs with his free hand and grab hold of his pathetically dripping cock, swipe the fluids away with a thumb. Maybe give himself a few tight strokes to take the edge off. To calm his needy body and get rid of the excessive dripping fluids betraying his arousal. It was kind of pathetic, after all, just how hotly his body was already thrumming without really being touched all that much.

But considering how much Geralt enjoyed witnessing his pleasure it might not be the wisest of ideas to deny him any of it. Not if it was all part of the show he wanted to put on to tease both the witcher and himself and draw out this moment for just as long as they could both bear.

Another creak of the bed frame behind him and a telling, slick noise that made a stab of arousal shoot through his body. Geralt was indeed touching himself, aroused so much by the view Jaskier was granting him with that he could not hold back any longer and had to relieve himself somehow.

On second thought he could speed this up. Hurry up just a little, so they could both get what they needed before the sun dusted the horizon in shades of pink and orange and powdery blue.

Jaskier gave himself a few drawn out, experimental thrusts, spreading his fingers to stretch the loosening muscles even more, before pulling out and starting over with three fingers this time. The fit was obviously tighter than before and for the first time he felt a twinge of pain as he pushed deeper, spreading his opening wider than before. But the pain was not too obvious, merely a teasing little reminder that he should take just a little more time before moving on. That he should work himself until it disappeared before even thinking about climbing back into that bed.

But even though one probably would not expect so looking at Jaskier he was not opposed to a little bit of pain when taking a lover to bed. He liked teeth sinking into his skin, nails scratching across his back. Liked the searing sting of a slap across his pert ass and the hot twinge of a cock shoved into him just a little too early, after not quite enough preparation.

And so part of him revelled even in the burn he felt as he pushed his fingers deeper, forcing his body to accept the stretch. It gave a beautiful edge to his arousal, cock jumping and dripping even more dark stains onto the wooden floors.

Jaskier let out a hot little hiss once he had buried all three fingers as deeply inside himself as he could. He allowed them to remain there for a breath or two while he revelled in the throbbing arousal mixing with the stinging pain.

After taking another slow, shaky breath he tried to twist his fingers, changing the pressure on the muscles and making himself groan. A drop of excess lubricant trailed along his skin and down his balls, another flighty, teasing kind of stimulation he was not prepared for, leaving him shivering.

When he slowly pulled out his fingers only to thrust them back inside more slick began dripping. He could feel the molten gaze of those gold eyes on his stretched rim, his glistening fingers, the wet trail of lubricant down his taint. It only made him tremble with even more vigour, more intense arousal, his entire body taut with need and this close to just turning around and jumping right back into that bed, straight onto the cock he was stretching and preparing himself for.

His patience with himself, with the entire situation, was already wearing thin as he crooked his fingers and brushed the knuckles against his sweet spot once more. But it finally shuddered and burst apart when he heard a low, beckoning growl from behind him. Something rough and animalistic that called out to a buried instinct within him.

"Jaskier", the witcher growled, rumbling his name so roughly the bard barely understood it. "Come here..."

He could not have resisted even if he tried. Another day, another situation, he might have wanted to. Might have disobeyed just to show he could. That he was not at Geralt's back and call despite what it looked like sometimes and that the witcher was not in any position to give him orders. Except for battle, maybe, when he could shout at Jaskier to do just about anything and the bard trusted and followed his command blindly.

Right now though Jaskier's body was thrumming with need, the muscles wrapped around his own fingers twitching and his cock drooling excitedly all over the floor. There was no need to pretend or hold back. Not when he was called for with that much heat in Geralt's voice in turn.

So Jaskier pushed his fingers deep one last time, sighing at the stretch and burn, before removing them. Then he stood on trembling legs, knees almost buckling underneath him, and turned around.

He froze where he stood.

Geralt was leaning up against the headboard. He had kicked off the blankets and was stark naked underneath, one hand shamelessly stroking his impressive erection while the other rested on his thigh almost innocently. He looked like sin, with his silver hair in disarray and his usually pale face flushed all the way down his chest.

The most impressive were his eyes though, molten gold staring back at Jaskier, all the need and desire and longing he had only ever dreamed of seeing in the witcher's expression out in the open for him to marvel at. And the most marvellous thing of all, besides Geralt even showing him this kind of honesty in the first place, was that the witcher made no move to hide it once Jaskier had set eyes on him.

Before Jaskier could think about moving he had to take a few, calming breaths, lest he lose himself in pleasure all too soon after joining that breathtaking man on the bed. When he took his first few steps they were still unsure, knees weak but mouth salivating at the display before him.

Oh how he wanted to get his lips on that beautiful cock. How he wanted to lie down between strong thighs and take his time worshipping what Geralt stroked so casually.

But not tonight.

This game of theirs had went on long enough and Jaskier was determined to help them along, now that his own patience had finally left him.

His knee had barely hit the mattress before Geralt reached out for him with the hand that was not pleasuring himself, reaching to grab Jaskier by the neck and yank him closer until their lips collided.

It was a hungry, desperate kiss, their teeth clicking together before they could adjust to a more comfortable position. Yet it was not quite as forceful as Jaskier would have imagined kissing Geralt would feel like. He didn't feel devoured or ravaged when Geralt's teeth caught his lower lip and that other hand came up to wrap around his back and pull him closer. The witcher was too gentle for that. His biting and pulling never more than Jaskier could take, never more than thrilling, making him feel ... wanted. Desired.

He shuffled forward on the bed, allowing those strong hands to pull him ever closer until he could throw one leg over Geralt's lap. They fell into each other like their bodies had been made to slot together like this, Jaskier's smaller frame perched in Geralt's lap, held warm and close. An echo of the nights they had spent huddled together in front of dying embers. Only this time they could actually look at each other if either of them ever felt like breaking their kiss.

Also they were clad in significantly less clothes. And both hard. And Jaskier had just fingered himself open and ... alright, maybe there were a lot of differences to their usual huddling. But still it had led them here and Jaskier could not have been more grateful as he tried licking into Geralt's mouth and was welcomed with a groan and an eager tongue meeting his.

The hand in his neck wandered higher to cup the back of his head, fingers winding deep into his locks, while the other hand wrapped even further around his back, like Geralt was trying to get a good grip on his body.

A moment later Jaskier's world was tilting and he yelped into Geralt's mouth, pulling back to gasp a surprised breath when his shoulders and back were already hitting the mattress. He stared up, bewildered, into the witcher's grinning face who dove down again to claim another kiss.

He felt good with Geralt braced above him, strong hips wedged between his thighs, cocks almost brushing together. Letting his hand fall away to the sides he surrendered and when a moment later Geralt pulled away to grin down at him again Jaskier grinned back.

"Next time you take on such a dashing maneouvre", he gasped, more out of breath than he'd realized, "be sure to give a fair warning beforehand, yes?"

Geralt only looked at him, eyes trailing from Jaskier's flushed face down his chest and further, to where his legs lay splayed open, thighs parted for Geralt to fit between. He gave a low, rumbling hum before reaching down with one hand to easily wrap it around both their erections, pushing them together.

The touch made Jaskier shiver and gasp, twitching up into the teasing pressure. He felt himself grow wetter still, dribbling cock coating Geralt's thick fingers as he stroked them a few times, slowly spreading the wetness over both their lengths.

"Next time you try to lecture me on patience", he rumbled and the sound of his voice made goosebumps race down Jaskier's arms, eyes flicking between stroking fingers and invitingly flushed lips, "be sure to not beg me for my cock minutes before."

It took a moment for the words to sink in, especially with the continued glide of Geralt's fingers that grew slicker and slicker with both their excitement. But when it did Jaskier let out an indignant noise, spluttering out a breathless "Ex-excuse me? I did not ... I _never_...!"

With another low growl Geralt leaned down to nose at Jaskier's neck, trailing kisses down the sweaty skin before sinking his teeth deep enough to make him squirm.

"I want you", he growled, damp lips brushing against sensitive skin. "I want you inside me." Jaskier paused, disoriented for a second even though he had to admit he was not at all opposed to the idea. What about his preparation though, what about ... oh. "Please let me feel you..." Finally his sluggish mind caught up.

Geralt was quoting him. Teasing him with his own words and all Jaskier could do was gasp and squirm under the touch of those fingers, under the feeling of sharp teeth grazing his neck again.

"I ... that was ... that was _not_ begging!", he tried to defend himself but when Geralt let out a thoughtful hum and pulled his hand back from where he'd been stroking them Jaskier whimpered in protest.

"So ... you don't want me, then?"

He could hear the amusement in those low words and couldn't help his teeth flashing in a low snarl, fingers flying up to tangle in white hair and yank on it. Enough. He had been waiting for this moment for literal years, and he would not let it be destroyed by the witcher's sudden smartassery.

"Geralt of Rivia", he hissed, pulling Geralt's head back so he could look into twinkling golden eyes, "if you're not inside me in the next ten seconds I swear to the gods..."

He was silenced by another kiss, this one deep and slow and languid, serving to cool his temper at least somewhat. Jaskier still felt a bit dazed when they parted, slowly blinking up at the witcher and trying to remember what point he was trying to make a moment ago.

Then he felt the wet tip of Geralt's cock brush against the loosened muscles of his opening and oh ... oh yes, he remembered.

With a greedy little noise he bucked his hips, tilting them more so it would be easier for the witcher to slide inside, then threw one long leg around Geralt's hips, trying to pull him in.

Geralt only laughed and Jaskier hated and adored how gorgeous the sound was. Low and raspy and intimate in a way that made his heart flutter and his cock throb. Then he was _shushing_ Jaskier breathing a soft "shhhh" against his lips before claiming them again in another slow kiss and the bard would have been furious had it not been this hot and soothing.

Above him Geralt's weight shifted as the man reached down with one hand, guiding himself to line up and slowly push inside right at the moment he slipped his tongue between Jaskier's lips and into his mouth.

The combination of different feelings made Jaskier dizzy with need and his quiet, overwhelmed moan was swallowed by Geralt's greedy lips.

Despite his thorough show of preparation the stretch was intense as Geralt pushed deeper into him, forcing his muscles to give way beyond what they had been coaxed into by Jaskier's fingers. It burned and left Jaskier squirming. But Geralt used the hand he had guided himself with to pin his hips against the mattress and keep him still and oh ... oh how exhilarating it was to be trapped like that.

Trapped under the imposing bulk of Geralt's form hovering above him, trapped by the large hands pushing him down into the mattress. By the mouth devouring his, licking deeper and rumbling pleased noises against his tongue.

Jaskier would have cursed up a storm had he been able to, had his mouth not been otherwise occupied. He still managed to whine out a perfectly desperate noise once Geralt bottomed out, hips resting snug against his ass. Jaskier threw his other leg around him as well, making sure to pull him even deeper but Geralt's body was already as close as possible to his own. The knowledge left him almost as breathless as the feeling and that incredible kiss.

After a few more searing hot swipes of that surprisingly clever tongue the witcher pulled back to look down at him. His expression was unfairly smug.

"Better?", he murmured and Jaskier might have tried to hit him for the sheer audacity had he not been too preoccupied with feeling utterly overwhelmed.

"...better", he croaked after a while and the look Geralt rewarded him with was almost ... fond. Or maybe Jaskier's senses were simply playing tricks on him.

There was another kiss, this one barely more than a flutter of lips against his cheekbone, then Geralt shifted his weight once more and started moving. It was a slow rhythm at first, languid and smooth enough to make the simmering pleasure spread all the way down into his curling toes. Soon the burn of the stretch that had challenged him before began to feed into his arousal as he got more used to feeling this full. Used to being filled over and over, with each thrust that had Geralt sinking all the way into him.

The slick drag of Geralt's cock was both maddening and perfect, everything he wanted and still leaving him craving more and before he knew it he was babbling again. Only this time not in quite the same, thoughtful way as before.

"Gods, Geralt ... yes...", he breathed, failing to keep his eyes on molten gold when his own lashes kept fluttering with each deep thrust. "I knew you'd feel good but ... fuck, this is ... oh, this is ... marvellous ... this is..."

He let out a low, wavering moan when Geralt's hips slammed into his with more force, picking up the gentle, almost soothing rhythm from before to make him stumble over his own tongue. The witcher had the audacity to chuckle at his helplessness.

"Oh Jaskier", Geralt growled, leaning closer so he could feel warm breath right against the shell of his ear. "If you can still talk I'm not doing this right…"

Jaskier was very tempted to protest, to tell Geralt exactly how right he was doing this. But the next thrust of strong hips was intense enough to make his entire body quake and he could merely whimper.

His hands scrambled down to hold onto Geralt’s shoulders, digging deep into the bulging muscles to help ground himself. And even though the feeling of his nails clawing into pale skin could not be a comfortable one Geralt let him, only flashed him an even sharper grin as he gave another deep thrust.

Jaskier's mind tried and failed to keep it together as the witcher fell into a rough rhythm with quick snaps of his hips and sharp teeth that soon began to sink into the sensitive skin along his jaw and down his neck. He couldn't even grasp a clear thought, let alone utter anything that went beyond breathless moans and mindless gargling.

He had been taken by men before, strong men who held him down and used them for both their pleasure. But never in his life had he felt this ... _owned_ by anyone. Not in the way Geralt owned him, with more than the heavy weight of his body or the beautiful shape of his cock sinking into Jaskier over and over. He owned the bard with every breath and every grin, with every word whispered between them, with every bruise bitten and sucked into his neck. With every lingering kiss he pressed to the abused skin after.

It was exhilarating, to be desired beyond the tempting shapes of his body and clever wit of his charms and he revelled in it just as much as he revelled in the feeling of Geralt's cock stretching him wide.

Somewhere at the edges of his consciousness he was aware his lips were forming lonesome syllables but none of them made sense when strung together, his mind too far gone. If it had been Geralt's goal to fuck him speechless he had achieved it easily.

And still those hips slowed down all too soon, coming to rest pressed against his backside, with Geralt's cock resting all the way inside him.

Breathing hard the witcher rose up from where he had kissed the last bruise into Jaskier's neck and dove in for another kiss, deep and passionate and lingering as a prickle on his lips even after they parted.

"Turn around", he whispered, voice rough and intimate in a way that made Jaskier's cock throb. It was one of those orders he would laugh at and play around at any other time, with anyone else. But right in this very moment, when Geralt looked at him like that, with his eyes of molten gold, he had no choice but to obey once the witcher slowly pulled out of him.

It proved to be more of a hassle than expected, with Geralt's body braced so close above him, brushing against his own with every movement and refusing to give him more space, but in the end Jaskier succeeded. He shimmied his hips into place where he felt the witcher’s cock glide along the small of his back and the swell of his ass, then grabbed a pillow from further up the bed and hugged it against his face.

He let out a quiet sigh as he felt Geralt's hot breath against the back of his neck, the slight tickle where it made his hair prickle. Then there was the gentle tip of a nose nudging against his spine, running down the length almost all the way to his shoulder blades. Geralt lingered there for a moment, brushing warm lips against Jaskier's skin, before he rose up again, trailing kisses up his spine before nuzzling against his neck.

The moment was so soft and affectionate, so breathtakingly intimate, Jaskier couldn't help but melt into the feeling, those playful nudges and gentle kisses, the sweet brush of Geralt's cheek against his neck.

The entire length of the witcher's body followed, sinking down against him as a satisfying weight that still didn't crush him, still allowed him to breathe, even if he couldn't quite move anymore. It was perfect. Especially when he felt the nudge of Geralt's cock against his entrance.

The witcher slid into him like he belonged there, both of them still wet with lubricant and precome as he pushed and spread and claimed. Jaskier felt his eyelids flutter, his eyes rolling back into his head as he was filled once again with this brain melting kind of pressure.

In this position, with Jaskier's thighs pushed together and Geralt spread out on top of him, he didn't reach quite as deep as before. But that was fine, more than fine, perfect even, when Geralt gave a few slow, experimental thrusts and finally bumped right into the one spot that made Jaskier shudder with pleasure.

"Oh ... oh yes...", the bard breathed, his mind still slow and soft with need and the fact he couldn't even squirm under the grounding weight of the witcher somehow made him even more excited. His cock throbbed where it was pressed against the sheets, soaking them with his greed.

"Oh darling, right there..."

He didn't even notice what exactly he was saying, didn't notice the minute shudder running through Geralt's body at the sweet word, the breathless endearment. What he did notice though was the low growl stifled against his neck, the sharp teeth he had already been well acquainted with digging their way back into his skin.

And with his sweetest spot found Geralt began to fall back into his rhythm from before, putting the same strength into his thrusts, strength that made Jaskier moan like a whore. Loud enough he had to muffle his cries into the pillow. What was not like before though was the inhuman precision he used to hit that spot with each stroke and made stars explode all across Jaskier's vision.

It was rough and sweaty and primal, the way Geralt mounted him like some animal ravishing their mate, hips snapping forward and drilling into him at an almost punishing pace. But at the same time it was strangely, disorientingly sweet.

Because whenever Geralt would pull back from his neck, from a fresh bite that would first swell and then bruise, he would soothe his tongue across the marks and cover them in fluttery little kisses before moving on to dig his teeth into another patch of unmarred skin.

Of course the driven frenzy of Geralt's fucking did not leave him unimpressed. It did not take long for him to try and move back into the intense thrusts, bracing a shaking hand against the headboard so he could gain at least some leverage. Otherwise he was completely and perfectly controlled by the weight on top of him and the brutal rhythm the witcher used to drive him insane.

And still there were those light kisses and gentle licks that made him whine between his greedy moans, that made his chest pull tight and ache just as much as they made his cock throb and drool.

As much as he enjoyed playfulness and teasing leading up to the act he adored to be grabbed and fucked into like this when he was in the mood. But he never knew he would adore the kisses so much.

With the steady drill of Geralt's hips into him, the throbbing, rubbing pressure against his sweet spot and the low, greedy growls breathed right against his skin it was not long before Jaskier tried to reach down and grab himself to create some much needed relief. The pressure of the mattress and the teasing rub of the sheets against his cock just were not enough to satisfy him completely, he needed more.

But the position was awkward and between how he was bracing the other hand against the headboard and the weight of the witcher pressing him down he couldn't quite manage to wiggle a hand under his own hips.

It turned out he didn't need to.

As lost as Geralt seemed to be in him he was still surprisingly attentive. When Jaskier couldn't reach what he needed a broad hand slipped under his hips instead. There was not quite enough space for Geralt's fingers to wrap around him completely but they cupped his length, pressed it against Jaskier's abdomen and _squeezed..._

The sudden increase in pressure and stimulation made Jaskier choke on his next breath and he bucked his hips, shoving them further into the skilful grasp of the witcher. Geralt pulled back long enough to breathe a rumbling laugh against his ear.

"Will you come for me?", he almost purred and paired with the next thrust that hit Jaskier's sweet spot so perfectly it was almost, almost enough to push him over that beckoning edge. But of course the sadistic witcher used that very moment to slow down his rhythm minutely, dragging his cock slowly along that spot when he pulled back, making bright stars explode before Jaskier's vision.

_Who knew the mighty witcher would be such a damn tease?_ , Jaskier would have thought had he been able to think anything beyond how badly he wanted to come on that perfect cock. How badly he wanted to whine and wiggle and grind and moan out his orgasm, keep riding this blissful wave however far it would carry him, no matter how mindless and needy and pathetic it left him.

So the next time he parted his lips it was not to whine out a breathy noise of want, it was to whisper lost little words against the soft pillowcase.

"Please", he whispered and his voice was shaking with need and desperate arousal. No matter how indignantly he had insisted on not begging before this now was different. There was no pride left to hiss at him to pull himself together, no thoughts or needs beyond _more_ and _closer_ and _Geralt_...

"Please, I need you...", he whimpered and it was quiet enough muffled into the pillow he was sure the witcher could only pick it up because of his inhuman hearing. "I need..." Sucking in a shaky breath Jaskier trailed off, muscles trembling and eyes rolling back as the tip of Geralt's cock dragged against that spot with a precision that had to be on purpose.

"You need?", rumbled that deep voice and he shuddered.

Had they been in any other situation with Jaskier not fucked out of his damn mind he would have rolled his eyes at the sheer audacity, the open amusement apparent between the words. At the sudden playfulness he saw way too little of during their usual days spent together. It might be something he could grow fond off, even when it was directed at him like this, a teasing joke made at his expense.

But of course Jaskier was not in his right mind to and instead only moaned helplessly and answered the question as soon as his tongue cooperated again.

"Gods please, let me ... make me ... Geralt..." His breath hitched at another thrust, this one fast and deep and oh so distracting. But Jaskier still pulled through. "I need to come!", he finally blurted out and the noise that escaped the witcher sounded way too much like a purr. Low and pleased like he had only waited for this.

"Please make me come...", the last whisper was barely there, barely louder than one of his stuttering breaths and yet Geralt purred again and nuzzled against his shoulder, shifting his weight on top of Jaskier.

Then the fingers cupping his cock squeezed him harder, making him gasp with pleasure as Geralt's rhythm picked up once again, those hips snapping forward to fuck into him with a force that left him quaking. And just like that Geralt took him higher, shoved him closer to that edge and left him teetering there for a few long, precarious moments. Until that cock rubbed right along his sweet spot when Geralt dug sharp teeth into the back of his shoulder, leaving him bucking and swearing.

He was falling.

Jaskier was vaguely aware of his muscles spasming, his body writhing forward to rut against Geralt's palm, back into those deep thrusts. He was aware his cock was twitching and throbbing, shooting wave after wave of sticky cum against Geralt's fingers and the already ruined sheets. He was aware his teeth were buried in the pillowcase and the fingers of his free hand yanking at the rumpled linens.

But what he was most aware of, what his attention clung to, even in a mindless moment such as this, was the feeling of Geralt's body against his own. From one second to the next he was even more focused on the teeth leaving thrumming marks on his skin, on the places where the witcher's chest was pressed against his back, where he was spread open and invaded over and over by that thick cock. He was focused on every heated breath against his neck, every low growl and grunt he could feel vibrate against his shoulder.

And then he focused on the feeling of Geralt losing himself inside him. The erratic twitch of his cock as it pumped him full of thick come, the obscene noises as Jaskier grew wetter and wetter with his witcher's spent. The rumbling moan as Geralt pulled sharp teeth out of his shoulder and instead dropped his forehead down against it, rutting into him without rhythm or finesse, only trying to chase this feeling and make it last for a few more blissful seconds.

Then he finally fell still and a breathless silence fell between them.

Jaskier tried to catch his breath. It was harder than expected with Geralt's weight on top of him and after a few more moments he began to wiggle. With a grunt Geralt rolled off of him, splaying out next to him on the mattress breathing a tired huff and a rough "Sorry..." that Jaskier almost overheard.

It took him by surprise, painted a little smile onto his lips as he shifted and stretched before pushing himself away from the mattress just enough to look over at Geralt. The witcher's skin was covered in a glistening sheen of sweat, his face flushed attractively and his eyes closed.

"Oh, please do not apologize", Jaskier smiled and his voice sounded rough, throat still raw from all the screaming, the needy moans. He swallowed but the words still came out raspy when he continued: "I quite enjoy this ... passionate side of yours..."

A single eyelid lifted so Geralt could peer at him. There was a moment of hesitation, a breathless few seconds expanding between them while Jaskier kept smiling and the witcher pulled up a pale eyebrow.

"What?", the bard grinned, not satisfied with the minute reaction he was getting. But then Geralt moved, reaching over to throw a heavy arm across his back and pull him close, yanking his body to splay against the witcher's. Geralt's skin was sticky and he smelled of fresh sweat and sticky spent. Jaskier was not opposed to the scent at all.

"Alright", he mumbled as he settled down after his initial moment of mild shock. "Let's do this your way. No talking, I understand. After all you must keep up that air of rugged mystique and..."

"Jaskier..." Geralt's low voice cut through his teasing rambling and he looked up to meet those bright eyes. There was a twinkle of amusement in them that made his heart leap. A moment later one of those broad hands cupped the back of his head and he was pulled into another kiss. This one was slow and deep, utterly indulgent in a way that made a comfortable warmth pool deep in his abdomen. Had he not been sated minutes ago he might have called the sensation arousal.

They parted much later, when their bodies were already cooling and they finally sauntered down from that high they had climbed together. When he began to shiver Jaskier bent in a rather ridiculous way to grab the pile of blankets from the foot of the bed and covered the both of them before settling down against Geralt's chest.

The position was almost the same they had taken after the witcher snuck into his room earlier tonight. Only this time they were both naked and Geralt pulled him just a bit closer than before.

"You really did a number on my neck", Jaskier murmured, rubbing his legs against Geralt's and finding the most comfortable place on his chest to rest his head. "I will have a whole lot of bruises tomorrow and I will hold you accountable for every single one of them.”

"Is that so?"

He did not even have to lift his head to look up at Geralt, he could hear the smirk in his voice just fine and could barely hold back his own.

"Oh yes", he nodded solemnly, tracing idle patterns into the soft hair covering Geralt's chest, "I'll teach you a lesson about not mauling me like a vicious bear."

A low, amused hum. Then:

"Is it going to be anything like that lesson about patience you taught me?"

By now Jaskier's playful smirk had grown into a full out grin and he tucked his face against Geralt’s chest, hips scooting closer against the witcher's body.

"Exactly like that."

The noise that rumbled out of Geralt at those words was deeper and much more exciting and Jaskier licked his lips. That warmth in his abdomen grew hotter and his eyes fluttered closed.

"I'm in."

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my [tumblr](https://fenfyre.tumblr.com/) or my [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/fenfyre)


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